Less Like Scars

WARNING: This is heavy. I'm sorry. I've been putting off writing about this 'cause it hurts, but I want to be real. If you're not up for anything too heavy, then I would recommend not reading this. Actually, I would recommend reading it. It's life and love and pain and hurt. It's what's made me part of who I am.


I’ve got a scar on each of my shins. I hate wearing shorts because every time I do, someone inevitably asks me what I did to my shins. It’s not really a big deal, but I just don’t like people to know that I’m an absolute and total klutz who can’t jump. The story is during basketball practice my sophomore year we were jumping up and down on and off of these big wooden boxes. I missed….twice. Got each of my shins once. They didn’t bleed, just kind of oozed. I should have gotten stitches, but I didn’t and now I have really big indentations on both of my shins. It’s a funny story now when I think about it. But sometimes, though, I just hate the looks of my legs with those scars.

I have other scars. I have one on my chin from when my brother was chasing me and I fell chin first into the corner of our wooden toy box. I’ve got a scar on one of my fingers where I dropped some hot glue on them during a science experiment in school. But who doesn’t have scars? I mean, if you’ve been alive for very long, you’ve got a scar, and most of the time there’s a story to go with it, some of the funny and some of them not so funny, but they’re scars, and they’re part of what made us who we are.

I also have some scars inside. Sometimes I feel like I’ve let parts of me just scab over and over until I just don’t feel things any more, and the longer I do this the more and more likely it is that these will become scars and shape how I react to certain situations every time I’m confronted with them.

I remember the day my nephew died like it was yesterday. I was still living at my mom and dad’s, and it was like six o’clock in the morning. The phone rang, and it was someone from my sister’s work telling us that something was wrong with Dylan. Then I heard my dad call my brother-in-law and ask what was wrong. And then this is one part that haunts me to this day. I heard my dad say, “Dylan’s not breathing.”

It was November 26, so it was pretty cool out, but I jumped out of bed in my shorts and t-shirt and ran to my car to head to my sisters. I just left. I had to get over there. I knew CPR so I had to see what I could do. I got there and started doing CPR right away. You know how in movies CPR always works? It didn’t. I was devastated.

For about six or eight months after that, I couldn’t drive by my sister’s house. Every time I drove by it, that morning would flash back into my mind, and I would hurt all over again. For three or four years…and sometimes even today…the thought would creep into my head that I didn’t do all I could. If I did, Dylan would still be here with us. SIDS is a completely mysterious syndrome that we virtually know nothing about. I did finally learn, though, that I could have done CPR till I was blue in the face and it still wouldn’t have worked.

I’ve got a scar on my heart. This scar is for Dylan. Sometimes, though, I don’t even think it’s a scar yet. Sometimes I think it’s still a scab, because it hurts so bad still. It’s been almost five years now, and sometimes it seems so fresh to me that I can’t hardly stand it. I had a hard time forgiving myself. There was nothing I did wrong, but I thought I should have been able to do more. I know I did all that I could. It was just his time to go. I was finally able to accept that. Now when those thoughts come into my mind, I know that it’s just Satan trying to bring me down again. Believe me, after all that depression (self-diagnosed after the fact), I’m not going back down that road again.

There’s a song by Sara Groves called Less Like Scars, hence the name of this entry. I think it, more than anything else I could write, could convey what God has done for me through all this. I hope you like it!

It’s been a hard year
But I’m climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it’s
Less like tearing more like building
Less like captive more like willing
Less like breakdown more like surrender
Less like haunting more like remember

And I feel You here
And You’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But You are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like character

Less like a prison
More like my room
Less like a casket
More like a womb
Less like dying
More like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel You here
And You’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But You are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like character

Just a little while ago
I couldn’t feel the power or the hope
I couldn’t cope, I couldn’t feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out
Hoping You would come
And I need You
And I want You here
And I feel You

And I know You’re here
And You’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hand a bad, bad situation
But You are able
And in Your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like character

LESS LIKE SCARS – SARA GROVES & NATE SABIN

Just remember…God is good. God is faithful. And God will never, ever give you more than you can take. Where I’ve been and the pain I’ve felt and the love I’ve known makes me who I am today. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.